


detox just to retox

by gabriel42069



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 17:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11340042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabriel42069/pseuds/gabriel42069
Summary: Vriska has a breakdown.





	detox just to retox

**Author's Note:**

> heyyy so this is pretty heavy! if you're not comfortable with graphic discussions of child abuse and murder i would recommend not reading this! if you do, thank you, and just remember vriska's out there somewhere recovering and kissing her girlfriend.

The glass hits the wall and shatters into pieces, falling to the floor like rain. You grab the next one and hurl it, and then another, and then another, but the sting of glass against your skin doesn't do anything to distract from your thoughts.

You snap the plate in your hands in half and realize that your hands are shaking, your arms are shaking, your legs are shaking. The fight seeps out of you like blood from a wound and you sink to the ground. Shards of glass prick all over your legs, but you don't feel them, you don't care. You wrap your arms around your legs and bury your head in them and shiver.

_ How could you do that how could you let her make you do that why did you listen to him why did you do that to him why did you do that to her why did you do that to her why can't you realize you'll never make up for it no matter what you do no matter how hard you try it doesn't matter it doesn't change what you did so you might as well just DIE _ -

You squeeze your eyes shut. No, no, no. You try to think of yourself in the words Kanaya and Rose and Dave used - manipulated and abused and survivor and victim. He manipulated you she abused you you are an abuse survivor you are a victim.

You can't stop thinking about their faces.

You don't remember them all, there were hundreds, thousands, you couldn't have remembered them all, they all died, you killed them all, they walked the plank into your lusus' gaping jaw and died by her teeth, by your force, by your hand. Because of you. You would smile as they fell to their deaths and as your lusus' mandibles clenched and chewed and as they cried and screamed and you didn't listen.

They were in your dreams every day, crying and screaming their horrible song, calling you by name. Mindfang if you were lucky. Vriska if you weren't. You weren't lucky very often.

Maybe you never were lucky, maybe you had to steal that from the clutches of paradox space too, along with any chance at survival. You weren't lucky that she chose you, that she hissed your name in her acidic tongue and you heard her perfectly in her head. You weren't lucky that her screams echoed for sweeps, over and over. She screamed day and night and never gave you a break, not even when you were bleeding cerulean swill onto the floor of your hive by the gallon. She wanted to be fed and she told you that if you weren't in a state to hunt she would just have to make do. She told you to  _ walk down, come visit me, dear, I'm ever so hungry _ .

You were so scared.

If you tried to starve her she would have found a way to heave her massive body off the cavern floor and punish you herself and if you had succeeded they would have culled you without a second thought. Orphans had even less luck than bratty little girls with hungry lusii and you know because you saw thousands of freshly orphaned children sob as they marched to their deaths.

You grab hunks of your hair and pull hard, bringing more stinging blue tears to your eyes. Strands come out in your grasp and flutter to the floor. You taste the salt in your mouth as you weep.

You have to take responsibility for what you did. You know it was wrong. You knew it was wrong. You were scared to die so you sentenced them to their deaths. She made you do it but you did it you were guilty you are guilty. You were judge, jury, and executioner back then and now you are the defendant coming up empty-handed. The prosecution is the eyes of everyone you killed and the eyes of the boy you ruined and the eyes of the girl you blinded. You are guilty, guilty, guilty.

Tavros, oh, God, your heart hurts when you think about him, and your nails dig into your skin. He's part cat and sprite and all forgiving these days, all too willing to make friends and smile and call you vRIS. You don't deserve that. You let that - that slimy cue ball in your head and you were so, so angry all the time, at your lusus and the world and the other kids with easy lusii and especially yourself, and you took it out on him. You jumped him off a cliff and mocked him for falling. Even then, you had no justification, only emptiness and horror. Everything was empty empty gray and you were trying so hard to make it light up again, to make yourself feel again, to care again.

It didn't make anything light up or care or feel inside of you. It just made you sad. That you were weak enough to be told what to do by a man with a white ball for a head, that you ruined your friend's life, that you were the person everyone accused you of being.

You hate that person. You hate her. Mindfang was all you knew how to be and you didn't want to be her but what other choice did you have? You didn't know how to apologize, how to make it up, how to fix yourself. So you didn't, and you poked and prodded and stabbed at the bruise, and you made yourself her.

Your head shakes frantic back and forth.

You are not her. You are not Mindfang. You are Vriska, and you have done bad things, and you have done good things. You won't ever let yourself become her again, merciless and empty and needlessly cruel. Nowadays you are happy and full and learning to love and no one can take that away from you.

Slowly, you take in deeper and slower breaths, in-hold-out for 8-8-10, and your pusher stops racing in your chest, and your grip loosens. Your knuckles have gone white and drops of blood well up where your fingernails dug in. You brush chunks of hair out of your face and, with trembling fingers, message Kanaya.


End file.
